Sophia's Chronicles
A/N:
Just wanna thank you guys for the reviews, follows and favourites. It's always nice to hear from you guys :)
Chapter 92: Delicate Hands
A couple weeks later
Zara inhaled the gentle incense. Within a moment's notice, the large, intricate wooden doors appeared before her. Gold and emeralds were interwoven into the thick wood in the pattern of protection sigils. She traced the writing with her fingers as if to savour Sophia's immortal touch. The sigils began to glow in the signature grassy green that put her mind at ease in troubling times. From within the hardy contraption, the sounds of locks clicking and gears shifting could be heard. With a resolute clink, the doors pulled themselves open. The white marble floor invited her into the sanctum. Her footsteps echoed into the empty silence. A gasp was caught in her throat. Every time she came to the Repository, the beauty of it all would always be so stunning. The large library knew no bounds—bookshelves extended as far as infinity, light streamed in from a skylight on the ceiling far overhead and, in classic Sophia fashion, vines and moss crept up every wall to stake their presence. Grandiose pillars held up the establishment with little waterfalls flowing down each of them while paradoxical torches held flames amidst the sparkling cascades.
Experience led Zara towards the large central staircase that led up to the grand hall. Both walls on her side contained towering carved niches with statues showing what Zara assumed to be Sophia's memories. In one, Lucifer and Sophia were immortalised in a dance of passion, hands reaching to each other as their wings were stretched in flight. As fascinating it would have been to stop and admire each one of these images, Zara remained steadfast in her goal and approached the single vine throne at the end of the hall. Her footsteps echoed robustly against the floor. Flowers bloomed to delineate the throne's structure. She placed her palm on a gold disk on the little podium that stood at a respectful distance from the throne.
"Zara," the pale apparition materialised on the throne, right before her eyes.
"Sophia," Zara greeted in turn. "It's been a while."
"So it has," Sophia said, emotionless. The archangel's complexion, an earthy light brown, glowed with a bronze shine as a distinct beam of light illuminated her. Zara was always stunned at her sight; no one could be the same after seeing her sharp, high cheeks, her diamond green eyes, her rosy, plump lips, nor her precisely curled dark hair pulled back in a waterfall. She wore a long black garment that cupped her frame yet softened her curves. Gold ornaments decorated her forehead, neck, waist and wrists. Just as Zara was drawn into the archangel's celestial energy, Sophia's arm-folding snapped her out of it. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me."
"You? Never," Zara vowed earnestly. Sophia appeared to pout, staring away at one of the statues. "But you told me yourself—the more time I spend here, the harder it'll be for me to return. I can't stay for long."
"But don't you want to?" Sophia's shoulders slightly drooped. That was enough to drive a stake through anyone's heart. The archangel stood and sauntered over to a statue of Lucifer. In it, he had one hand raised up to seize a ball of light and in another, he reached out to her, palm slightly curved as if he was unsure she would take it. His saffron eyes were at once fierce and gentle. She traced his fingers in a melancholic pause.
"There's nothing I want more than to be with you again. We all want you back. The real you, not this… hologram," Zara implored, head craned up to adapt to the archangel's height. With a sniffle, she sharply directed her eyes away to allow the emotions to purge. "Why do I even bother saying this? You aren't real. You can't actually hear me where you've gone."
Sophia aimed a maternal stare in her direction. "Because it makes you feel better. There's no shame in finding a way to cope," she replied, voice sultry as ever. "We all need crutches at one point or another. Some return to the embrace of sanity, choosing to live as they once did…" she glided over to another statue showing herself caught in a cradle in Lucifer's arms, his face distraught while hers was lifeless. Their wings appeared burnt and flayed, leaving but scars and an unkempt mess. "…while others break the glass of reality, refusing to put the pieces back in their order. Because there is no order. The order hides the truth."
"I don't understand," Zara blinked, brows in a subtle raise.
"The truth cannot be understood. It must be experienced," Sophia simply shrugged. "Perhaps one day you will glean the light of Wisdom. It's only by shattering the glass that you will find where your piece fits. As I did."
"You'll always be unknowable to me," Zara shook her head in resignation. "Raziel brought me some questions for you."
Sophia's lips curved up on one end. "Right this way, then," she floated in fluid motion towards the library.
24 January 2013
It was a cold day in a small Irish town when Zara woke up. What a busy day it was—running about town with the squad of demons at her command. Guns were fired, blood was drawn, bodies were buried. By evening, she changed clothes and joined hands with the demon who ran her back to Kansas, where another demon filled her in on a werewolf search. Just in time too, it seemed. When she reached the target's cabin in the woods, Sam and Dean were already engaged in a brawl for the lives of two captive teenagers. Just as one werewolf knocked the gun out of Sam's hand, Zara pounced on the monster's back, holding his head in an elbow lock while Sam reeled from shock.
"Zara?" Sam yelled as he froze on the spot. From the way the werewolf was trying to wriggle out of her grasp, sharp canine teeth dangerously flailing about, not much time was left. He quickly grabbed the gun and aimed for the heart. Zara let go to fall back, just as the silver bullet lodged in the werewolf's heart. It didn't take long for them to help Dean and leave a bloody mess of lycanthropes lying about. Sam freed the frightened teens and offered them a ride home and some consolation.
"Feeling better already?" Dean asked Zara as they stacked the bodies for burning.
"Turns out all I needed was a good night's rest," she assured them. "Wasn't about to let you boys have all the fun. Besides, there's a great restaurant nearby with waitresses in crop tops and booty shorts. I hear the beer's decent too."
Dean shot her a surprised look. "So you came all the way to Norton? I'm impressed," he heaved the last werewolf atop the pile. "Still, you shouldn't work yourself too much."
"Isn't that what Winchesters do?" she teased in return.
"Fair point," Dean conceded with a sigh. "So where are we on Lucifer?"
"No signs, no news, nada," Zara shrugged as he generously poured oil on the corpses. "Just like that, he's off the radar. I worry that we missed our chance."
"We can't give up, Z. I know you're tired. I am too. But Satan is out there and he can't be up to any good," Dean stood back as the gasoline trickled onto the ground. "Nothing happens in this world without leaving a trail. We just have to find it."
Fire erupted in crackles and hisses. Zara watched the flames dance, sealing the exit for the monsters as their corpses disintegrated. With what she knew about the fires from beyond, she couldn't help but feel some sort of way about what Dean said. "We've been looking for weeks. If there is a trail, it's probably wiped. I say we just let it come to us," Zara threw her hands up.
Dean sighed. "I guess so," he conceded with a heavy breath. "But I gotta say—air's a lot fresher now without those pagan bastards running around. Now we just have regular monsters to worry about."
"It's the little victories," Zara agreed. Unconsciously, her gaze drifted to the red star in the cloudless blue sky. Dean noticed it too and neared her.
"We've beaten Lucifer before. We can do it again, no matter how juiced up he is," he vowed. "Bigger they are, harder they fall, right?"
She slowly turned to look at him. Despite the implications of the bright Morningstar, a strange calmness had befallen Dean's hardy features. It was like he was relieved that Lucifer and the pagans hadn't gone to war after all—surely everyone in the know would feel the same way. But that didn't mean hope. A kind of otherness fell over Zara. It was like being the only one who knew that the flood would subside only for the tsunami to emerge.
By then, the sputtering of the Impala's engine had returned. "Kids are back safe. May need some therapy, but they're tough," Sam reported. "Everything okay here?"
"Yeah," Dean nodded as the ashes broke away from the corpses. "Not like three werewolves with an obvious pattern of teenage victims and an obvious cabin in the woods could be interesting."
"So, not Team Jacob," Zara joked. When the smoke cleared, she and Sam had a knowing look. "How about that restaurant, huh?"
"I think it's a great idea," Sam announced, hands dug into his pockets.
"You don't even know what she's talking about," Dean pointed out. He was not unaware of the playful conversation between their eyes. "What's going on?"
"Come with us," Sam beckoned his brother with a hand on the shoulder. With Sam at the wheel, Dean was none the wiser. A casual while on the open road, and they reached their destination.
"What are you minxes up to now?" Dean asked. So far, it seemed normal. The restaurant was as described. Lean blonde girls with the tightest tops paraded around with trays of fries and burgers. A regular lunch was ordered. "Wait, is this an announcement?"
"Dude, you're overthinking it," Zara said, narrow-eyed. Then, something caught her eye and she perked up instantly with a sing-song voice. "Oh, here they come."
As Dean watched, a group of waitresses had gathered and slowly approached with a cake. "So this is what it's all about," Dean smirked. "You guys…" he shifted in his seat. "You didn't have to do this."
"Of course we do," Sam argued. "It's your birthday. It should be special. Besides, it was Zara's idea."
"Oh, so I know who to blame," Dean aimed a friendly glare at her.
"That's a strange way of saying 'thank you'," she shot back.
"You must be Dean," a waitress placed the cake eagerly before Dean, all smiles and laughter. "We didn't know how many candles to put so we just put a big one," she snickered.
"Probably for the best," Dean shrugged it off with a cheeky grin. While Sam pulled out his phone, Zara led the girls in singing him a birthday song. Dean had a look of absolute resignation on his face as he endured the spectacle, especially with everyone else in the restaurant watching. When they got to the end of the song, the waitresses cheered and jumped up and down excitedly. "Oh," he was drawn into the sight of their bouncing chests like flies to a lamp, especially when they were at his eye level. "Thank you, ladies. Wow."
"Zara and I got you something," Sam pulled out a parcel from inside his jacket, just as Dean finished personally thanking all of them for their great service.
"So I haven't been giving the both of you enough to do, is what I learnt," Dean teased. He received the gift and with some hesitation, undid the white satin wrapping. Inside the sizeable box lay a couple of keys, furnished with shiny black handles. "What's this?"
"You know that old Honda bike that's been sitting in our garage since 1958?" Zara prefaced. "Well, Jack told me about this mechanic some months ago—a real talented guy who could get her up and running, and even threw in some upgrades. Thanks to him, the Impala has a little sister."
"She's all yours," Sam added, showing him a picture of the revamped vehicle.
A throaty laugh escaped Dean's throat at the sight of it. "Unbelievable," he exhaled sharply. "I was- I was not expecting this. You guys are crazy. Uh, thanks."
"We felt sorry for you since you're third-wheeling with us all the time, so," Zara shrugged. "Now you have an extra set of wheels for yourself."
"Shut up," Dean snickered. Time melted away as they exchanged roasts over the generous meal and cake. It was just an ordinary day, as cars bustled on the road outside the eatery. Across the road, a lone demon in a stiff black suit stood watch for Hell's servant.
Palazzo Versace, Dubai – Evening
Darkness crept up the horizon like a wave of souls clamouring for freedom out of the netherworld. In their nebulous fabric, the red Morningstar appeared as the sole salvation, offering hope amidst the weary stars and plump moon. These celestial tragedies were captured pristinely in the reflection of large open waters, overlooked by the grand palazzo. Glasses were clinked, a 200-piece orchestra composed art out of air and lights glistened off exquisite marble surfaces. The feast was something to behold by itself – every immortal tongue found something to its taste.
It was a crowd of divine auras constrained in designer suits that Hovan navigated to find the right spot. Along the way, he greeted those he recognised, bearing crocodile smiles when any of them could have it in for him. After all, this was the thrill of the game—never knowing who would try to kill you. But it wasn't about what was spoken to him; what was said behind his back gleaned more insight.
"How could Lucifer trust him? I heard he donates to charity. I'm talking without tax breaks," one eye-rolling voice said in his wake.
"Aren't you worried that the guy who started a genocide in plain view of the mortals is now in charge of everything? Why not telecast all our breakfast menus while you're at it?"
"I don't see Lady Morrigan here. Do you think she'll be arriving with Lucifer?"
"I, for one, welcome the regime change. We need an Abrahamic heavyweight who can look out for us outcasts. If anyone would understand what it's like to be kicked out for skinning naughty children, it's Lucifer. He's got my vote."
Hovan nodded at Victor Kavinsky as he passed. The vampiric elder was in a conversation with one of his trusted. "See how quiet the world is now that that little kozyol Jack Pierce went MIA? I heard a rumour that someone poisoned his shisha. What a stupid way to go."
His companion then replied, "I heard that the Rakshasas dragged him into Seventh Hell. In any case, his territories are ripe for the picking. Serves him right."
Amidst these murmurs, a familiar face found him. "Farah," he greeted his wife. She, like him, was aged finely with a golden brown complexion, which wrinkles could not diminish so easily. A wine-red smile stretched across her lips but it never reached her eyes.
"Where were you? I've been looking everywhere," she demanded, hoarse voice attempting tenderness. The sapphires she wore around her neck illuminated her light eyes.
"I've been busy," Hovan nonchalantly shrugged.
"Now is not the time to be busy, Hovan," Farah's smile struggled to remain. "We have our work cut out for us."
"'Our' work," he pointed out. A belated sigh depressed the demigod's shoulders, though his muscular shoulders betrayed him under the black suede suit. From her frozen glare, he realised he admitted blasphemy but still, he couldn't be moved to care.
"You realise none of this success—this power—would be ours were it not for what we do?" she coldly asked. "Being sought by the King of Hell himself is the highest honour anyone has ever bestowed upon us."
"Really? Do you so easily forget the times when it was an honour just to serve our folk?" he brought up. "They would pray to us and we would provide harvest and gold and song and dance. Remember when that was enough for us? Now we exploit those who once loved us."
"Because they don't anymore. They moved on to Jesus and Mohammad. Don't you remember what that did to us?" Farah retorted in hushed whispers, while maintaining cordial smiles at the other guests. "And don't get all so high and mighty. Your hands are tainted too, Hovan. Not just mine. At least I've accepted our new reality. But that's not what this is about, is it?"
"I don't know what you mean," Hovan's sharp jaw tightened. Though he was standing before her, his mind seemed to drift elsewhere.
"You're thinking about that concubine of yours. The one they're saying mysteriously vanished. Let it go, Hovan. There are plenty of skinny twinks out there," she rolled her eyes.
A controlled breath was released through his stiff chest. "May I ask how you came to know of… this?"
"Please," Farah mumbled. "I'm your wife, and business partner. I have to know everything."
"Well this is none of your business," Hovan adamantly stated. "I don't bother myself with every Molly or Tommy that you see."
"It's my business if it's affecting our business," Farah persisted. Leaning in closer, she hissed, "I don't care what he is to you. He's a liability. Don't you realise how bad it'll look if people find out you're consorting with someone like him? It could blow our whole deal with Lucifer."
"I don't care about Lucifer," Hovan casually said. Farah immediately checked their periphery to make sure no one was listening before staring daggers at him. "Courting him was your idea. But you know what, I don't care. Do as you wish. My inner sight tells me that it won't be too long before he falls. It'll be more pathetic than his first. Maybe then you'll abide my advice."
Despite all the choice words that came to her then, Farah Avedis bit her tongue. "Don't forget that it was I who directed your gaze to greater things and helped you achieve them. If you have any respect for me and what I've done for us, do the right thing," she uttered, before storming off as graciously as she could.
In a large suite elsewhere, demons rushed about to make the entrance perfect for their boss. Abaddon delegated orders as she marched confidently in her heels. For this occasion alone, she'd had her copper red hair up in a French twist and was adorned a black dress drawn taut at the waist. "Get the guests ready. They can't be standing during the big reveal," she ordered one demon. As she entered the suite, Lucifer stood contemplative on the balcony, admiring the sky's reflection on the creek. He was dressed smartly from head to toe, not sparing any expense. "Sir," the Knight approached, stepping out onto the quiet, unpopulated balcony.
Lucifer smiled, back still turned to her. "It's finally here. Our dominion," he said, fixating on the chalk-white moon. Its simple, elegant beauty reminded him of cheeks he couldn't caress, radiance he couldn't fall victim to. And so his smile faded, and with it, so did most of the stars in the sky. "Is everything ready?"
"All done as you commanded. Even Zara took some time off of being idle for this," Abaddon dryly added.
"I see that your doubts remain, even after she turned the wheels in our plan," Lucifer observed. "I don't need to assuage anyone's concerns, Abaddon. You either believe in me or you don't."
"Of course I believe in you. It's her that I don't. What kind of coincidence is it that Sita disappears, when she is the only other person to have access to that cell?" the Knight asserted. "Some happenstance it is that Hades died finding his Helm when she and the Winchesters were the last to possess it."
"Don't waste my time with your delusions," Lucifer's voice began to harden. "Tell me how Hades could have suffered injuries from a billion-volt lightning at the hands of that mortal girl." He turned to find her stunned expression. "Impossible, isn't it? As for Sita's prison—a clue was left behind at the scene. A long strand of hair. Last I checked, Zara was keeping it shoulder-level."
"But…" Abaddon stuttered, desperately sweeping the floor with her pupils.
"But nothing. We already captured the culprit. Justice will be enacted tonight." Lucifer buttoned his jacket and made to leave, pausing only at Abaddon's side to say, "If you ever bring this up again, I will find someone else more deserving of your Knighthood."
As he exited the suite, Abaddon quelled her doubts and followed closely at his side, making no sign of feeling like her gut had been punched. Soon, Farah had come to greet him and escort him to the venue—a grand dining hall with a table so long that its end seemed to collapse on a single point. Round tables populated the rest of the hall for the main guests' subordinates. Once the King had arrived, the guests all arose from their seats to greet him. When he sat, they sat.
"Thank you all for joining me here today," Lucifer announced, voice reaching all corners of the room. While he was at the head of the table, the immediate seats to his left were occupied by a less-than-excited Kali, Ares, Horus and Dragon King, while those to his right were taken by Farah, Hovan, Ishtar and Parvati. "First off, I'd like to thank the generous members of Javelin for accepting me into their circle. You people were a tough bunch, but I think I've done a good job at convincing you that I am, indeed, worthy."
No one dared to exchange defiant glares. The old gods who'd rejected him before merely stared at their empty plates, while Horus, Dragon King and Farah at least bothered to display a smile.
"On top of that, naming me as your leader? I'm flattered," Lucifer expressed, eyes contorting to solidify his emotion. "I'm honoured to be in this position. As Chairman of Javelin, I promise to uphold our principles of reciprocity and secrecy, but what's leadership without its own unique touch? I came to you promising your hearts' deepest desires. I do plan to make good on that promise. You must all have received individualised proposals by now, courtesy of my friends, Hovan and Farah Avedis—they've done everything in their power to make this perfect, so be sure to thank them tonight." While Farah beamed, Hovan raised an eyebrow, distracting himself with wine. This, of course, was watched closely by the archangel. "Before we discuss business any further, I won't keep you away from your dinner. I've ruled over demons—I can tell when my subjects are about to eat each other."
Laughter rumbled at the archangel's little jest, though those closest to him did not seem to get the humour, save Horus' quiet snicker and Farah's wide grin. As the King had commanded, waiters filed in as precise lines through the doors, almost one for each guest, and made the table radiate with aromatic delicacies within a matter of minutes. For someone who didn't have the habit of eating all that often, Lucifer was adept at enjoying his meal, even making merry conversation with his guests. It was almost too serene.
"So," Hovan glanced at Ishtar on his right. "Still nursing battle scars?"
"They'll heal. Some things won't, like the state of this realm," she softly whispered. "But with the new Chairman's grace, my girls may find themselves bringing in more customers, even if they are brutes with no respect for the female body. Blessed is our new leader."
The salty tinge was evident in her voice. In between bites of his meal, Hovan said, "Your current proposal does have a… slight change in code of conduct. Would you consider a renegotiation behind closed doors?"
Ishtar looked past Hovan to the archangel and back again. "He's permeated our circle like the trickles of the Euphrates through Sumer," she spat out, aggressively cutting through the meat on her plate. Even Hovan had to huff at that analogy. "There are no more closed doors. I'm sorry, Hovan."
"What if there is one?" he muttered. "A door that no one's seen, something people barely even noticed, but like the Euphrates, could turn trickles into floods?"
"Are we still talking about doors?" Ishtar shoved a forkful into her mouth.
"What if I told you there was someone who could help us? Someone new to the scene, someone who's unpredictable, who'll share our interests," he went on.
"Unicorns may exist but what you're describing is less plausible," Ishtar remained sceptical. "I sense that there is a caveat."
"Minor issue," Hovan confirmed, spider veins peeking out from the corners of his eyes. "I need your help to find him."
"And how might I do that under our overlord's nose?" she questioned cynically.
"Just ask your little sensual artisans to keep their ears open. He may be fonder of the male variety, so that already narrows your search," he answered. "I'm not asking you to take any risks. Just keep a lookout."
"No promises," Ishtar sealed the conversation. As she stomached another bite, her brows knotted in askance. "There's something curious about this meal. I feel… radiant."
This time, Dragon King chimed in from across the table. "It's the moon after the blood moon. I'm sure that the Chairman was kind enough to give us a taste of its energies."
Kali inspected the row of guests at the table. Her meandering gaze was interrupted by Lucifer's words. "Aren't you glad, Kali, that you chose this instead of, uh, death? This is a lot nicer," he stated.
"I was under the impression that you were eager to compromise. Something go wrong in your little scheme?" she passively remarked.
Lucifer's smile faded. "You have it wrong. I've always been in favour of harmony. Though it is true—some things had happened that made me more fervent on an amicable resolution," he admitted, straightening up in his seat. "Clearly, there was something bringing me down that I couldn't see. It's good that you brought it up. It needs to be addressed."
He clapped twice in rapid succession. That was the cue. Abaddon, who'd been in charge of the security detail, made the right signals.
"I know that in my bid to win you over, some unpleasantries may have been exchanged. I want us all to move past that. But to do that, we have to first bury the hatchet," Lucifer announced delightfully. "You see, there was a little snake hiding in the garden, planning to poison me behind my back. Flouting rules, violating our contracts and the most recent crime—trying to turn the odds against me. I've been hurt, my friends, and someone so willing to betray a sacred agreement is not fitting of our new Javelin. So I'm happy to announce that justice has been served, quite literally."
Just then, Abaddon strutted to his side with a silver tray and a large dome cover to match. With a dramatic flourish, she uncovered the tray, revealing a pale, ghastly head with auburn curls of hair soaked in dried, sticky blood. The eyes had rolled up and the tongue—a dry, shrivelled appendage—stuck out of chapped lips.
Gasps and shrieks resounded. "Morrigan!" Kali exclaimed, shooting up to her feet and covering her mouth. Needless to say, the other immortals were not too happy either. As the tray was set down before Lucifer, Hovan couldn't tear his gaze away from the decapitated head. Not many could have managed to strike down someone like her. Her face, frozen in an expression of a terrified scream, rang discordant bells in all their chests.
There was a pin-drop silence. As if that wasn't enough, there was a malicious glint in Lucifer's eye. "I must say, it was calculated, how she tried to knock me down a few pegs. Killing my general, taking away my prisoner? It was smart," Lucifer pushed out every word from deep within his chest. "Where did that get her and her trifecta of familiars? Into a five-course meal, that's what," he suddenly burst into laughter.
Jaws dropped. Hovan and Ishtar frowned at their plates, realising then what everyone else did too—the magical infusion was the goddess of war. Some gagged, some simply stared on in utter disbelief, unable to derive a good reaction. Horus snickered again.
"Let this be my first official gift to Javelin. Why waste all that power when I could give it all back to my loyal subjects? Tonight, you are revitalised. You are reborn. Initiated. We feast on this immortal flesh so it may become a part of all of us. To a shared history," he raised a glass of wine. "And to a greater future."
Heaven, Some Universe
"I came here for you." Michael shut the door behind him. Inside my doppelganger's office, Dean's light green eyes blended in with the alluring hues of the foliage that spread itself everywhere. Some part of me didn't want to switch to my real eyesight—what if I saw the real affection on Michael's divine form? The gentle but protective halo around him which was once so dear to me? In my world, he was an enemy, which was a lot easier considering I never saw him. Still, I switched my plane of sight to feel, at once, like myself and like the Sophia I had replaced.
"I was just about to visit you," I lied, keeping my cool. "But there was something I needed to find in my old records."
"Hm," he nodded his head back and approached slowly, giving the mess of open books on the table a once-over. I hoped I wasn't too stiff. "Look, I know the last time we spoke, things were rough. I just want to apologise for my behaviour. The way I acted was not husbandly. You're probably still upset about that."
I let my emotions grow flat and kept my gaze sharp. "You think?"
From what I recalled, Forty-Two had come here one last time before things really spiralled out of control in the Omniverse. She'd said that she wanted to ask for Michael's help in defeating Khaos but he was occupied in another war. A war in a place he called Necropolis. Perhaps their fight had been pertaining to that, but who could be sure? "But should that be a cause for us to still be this way?" he implored.
This time I let a genuine annoyance slip. "I just got here, Michael. What, am I supposed to report to you before I do anything else?"
"When my wife is here, I want to be the first to know. Especially with how dangerous you say the Void is getting," he defended. "I just worry about you, Adhya."
There it was again—that name. I'd heard Raphael use it, I'd heard Mother use it (in a vision) and now, Michael. Why had I never heard of it before? It rendered me more speechless to be presented with such a conundrum.
"I mean, look at you. You don't seem too well," he dwelled. It had been a long time since anyone looked at me so closely, especially with such a rawness. "I shouldn't have listened to you. I should've followed you."
"There you go again," I pointed out. "Disagreeing with me, the same way we fought the last time."
"I will not yell and make ultimatums, but it's killing me to know how much you're going through," Michael confessed. "You speak a lot about duty but you have a duty here too. To the people of our universes. To protect and preserve. How can I maintain this infinite stead without my partner? The face of this army isn't just me. It's you too. I fear that everything we spent our whole lives to build will crumble at our feet. Do you understand?"
I merely nodded.
"I didn't deny you when you wished to serve your bond with Khaos, nor did I dissuade you when you helped the other hybrid oust Him. I didn't say anything even when you refused to bear me a child. But now, my silence may be far too costly," he reasoned.
I suppressed rolling my eyes. Honey, as if any of that needed to be 'allowed' by you. I was starting to understand why she had spent so much time shadowing Khaos rather than being here.
"Our people are starting to falter without so much as an omen of you. The cruarchs may not say it, but I can see that they question my loyalty. Without you here, they think I'm undermining their pre-ordained leader," he continued. "The anti-Archs wonder where their Archon has been all these years, why their own sister wouldn't come visit them."
Sister. Forty-Two had siblings, it seemed. More creations of the Darkness. Anti-Archs… were they the archangels of the anti-matter world?
"To top it all off, a revolution in the cursed plains of Necropolis? We're stretched in all directions and unity is dissolving between our families," he went on, increasingly agitated. "What would the anti-Archs say to the tribes who proclaim that their chosen one is to be the next Archon? That the current Archon is still here to stake her claim? They can't do that if you're not here, especially if they don't know you're off fighting wars for God-knows-who…"
If I was Forty-Two, I imagined that she'd be pissed. Did he really think that these small problems could compare to what was going on in the Omniverse, a matter of existence or destruction?
"So please," he took my hands suddenly. "Will you come to Rigalia with me? Soothe your subjects' minds and tongues."
"What about the Void?" I asked righteously, vexed.
"The Void can wait," Michael insisted. With that sour look on his face, I didn't think I could reason with him. "You're not the only one there anymore. Let that other hybrid-you take care of it. You spoke so highly of her, so she must be able to handle things."
I swallowed a hard lump in my throat. "Fine," I relented, and he eased. I would just have to find a way back from there to sneak some readings.
"Thank you," he said, but I turned my back to attempt a last glimpse at Forty-Two's journals. That was when I felt a warm, heavy breath at the back of my neck. I froze stiff. His fingers traversed my side, running over the etchings of the armour until he reached the laces that held the top together. Just when I felt him tugging at the knot, I spun around to stop him. Instead, he clutched my defiant wrist and pulled me closer by the waist. We were chest-to-chest and I knew what would be next. "I know I don't express it, but I miss you deeply."
"No," I squirmed out of his grip just as he was about to seal our lips. Ruefully, I rested back against the table. When I dared to return my attention to him, I saw a penitent expression on him I didn't quite dare to decipher. Michael could appear so hardy sometimes but right then, he was akin to a painting trying to hide its colours. "I- I'm sorry. I can't right now."
"You don't have to apologise for anything," he dismissed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're right. There's a lot at stake and time is of the essence. We should get going."
I said nothing.
Purgatory
Getting topside alone was a challenge. The cave was narrow at times – a claustrophobic void which protested the stretch of his wings but allowed his inner shadow to expand. The werewolves kept their distance though their leering gazes soaked him to the bone. Extreme hunger had left some eerily quiet, like open animal traps ready to slam close at the first sign of prey. Yet others were left in a drooling daze at the sight of him, eyeballs ready to pop out of their sockets. Jack didn't pay heed to any of them, not even the remaining pieces of an old carcass that shared the same dental arrangement as the rest of them.
An infinitely thin stream of fresh air was the only clue guiding him through the correct tunnels and turns, until he reached a solid wall. "Is this it?" he asked.
The pack leader, a clumped mass of filth, nodded and looked up. "The opening is up there," Maya, he'd learnt her name was, hissed coarsely. "Taka, go with him."
Jack recognised the one she named as the one who'd subdued him earlier, a broad shouldered brute who could've been a sizeable monster in the living realm. "As long as he doesn't try to top me again," Jack dryly said. He looked up at the large wall, craning his neck all the way back. The shaft was narrow, so no way of extending his wings, unless he wanted to strain that injured left wing of his. "So how're we gonna do this?"
"Climb," Taka gruffly said. The wall was rough and contoured, for sure, but that was countered by the slow trickle of rainwater flooding in from the cave entrance. No stranger to manual dexterity, the archangel took a few steps back and used a running start to propel himself up the rocky surface. He swiftly pulled himself up the wall by his palms, kicking off his toes in light taps to anchor himself for every millisecond he was actually in contact with the surface. He was akin to a reptile, adeptly scaling the wall like it was nothing to him. At one point, though, the flat of his palm slipped under the rainwater, breaking his lightning streak. Jack dug his fingers into the wall and luckily, a firm grip was established again before he pushed further. When they finally reached the ledge, he smoothly swung his hips to set himself leg-first onto the flat ground.
"What's your favourite item on the menu?" Jack asked Taka, who'd taken a few seconds more to reach him. Together, they set foot outside of the safe, dark sanctuary into the uncharted forest. "Vampire? Skinwalker? Leviathan with a side of caviar?"
"You go after Leviathan and you'll never come back," the werewolf warned. He sniffed a couple times, his canine senses drawing him to the ground where scents were more prominent. "There," he directed. "Djinn."
"Good catch," Jack muttered. They both assumed low stances, moving quietly amidst the bushes as they neared the djinn. When the creature was in sight, Taka signalled to him to part ways. The djinn paused in her tracks. Her tattoos and eyes lit up in a brilliant blue as she surveyed her surroundings. A rustling erupted from the foliage, drawing her attention. From beyond, a tall, lanky being came forth, his head sunken into the tufts of hair draped down the sides of his face. Despite the morbid intent, Jack stopped within a few feet. After all, there was no need to chase something that couldn't escape.
"Angel?" she wondered, truly befuddled.
"Djinn," he returned the tone as he brandished his sword. A truly awestruck expression befell her. "Want some candy?"
"Wait," she beckoned before he could come close. "How could it be? Is this a miracle?"
"It's kind of the opposite," he maintained the sharp glare.
"Were you sent here by Allah?" she said with a distinct Arabic inflection.
"You ask too many questions," Jack grew vexed. He anticipated the onset of barbaric growls from behind her but his hunting partner was nowhere to be found. Figuring he just needed more time, Jack continued, "What's it to you, anyway?"
"I was sent here unjustly, ya malak," she implored. "By some twist of luck, these so-called righteous men chased me out of my home and murdered me. You must free me."
Jack cringed at the mention of society. "What was the injustice?" he asked out of curiosity. Her eyes grew blue again. The more he stared into them, the more he was invited into her mind. Her memories showed him her life—how she had provided an easy death for the sick by filling their last moments with fantasies of their deepest desires. When he exited the reel, he saw her woeful face begging to go back to what was once a noble life. During the war between the pagans and Lucifer, she'd refused to join a side so they'd created a trail that led the humans to her.
"Who are you? Jibrael? Israfel? Mikail?" she asked eagerly, breath abated. When he didn't answer to any of those, her expression grew dour. "Shaytan?"
"Who I am doesn't matter," he coldly asserted. He strengthened his grip on the hilt of his blade. "Your fate has been decided."
The djinn trembled as the blade glistened. "Malak, you are a being of mercy," she pleaded. "A hand of Allah's justice. Spare this spirit, for I do not defend myself."
As much as it wrung his heart dry, Jack remained unfazed. "Mercy is a privilege afforded by safety," he explained. "Right now, it's you or me. I know who I choose."
As she fumbled for words, a different kind of rustling tingled even the hairs on the back of the archangel's neck. It certainly did not feel right. The djinn's eyes widened. Jack used that as a cue to dodge and rightly so, as a different beast fell flat onto the floor where he once stood. That wasn't Taka. It was something completely different, something far more ripped and menacing, like it had been invigorated from years of unquestioned dominance. The top of the food chain—Leviathan. It looked at him with a madness that did not discriminate hunger and hatred. Jack gulped. If there was one, there had to be more. He was suddenly aware of the several other footsteps closing in on them. Seeing him rooted in shock, the djinn took off without hesitation. He would have gone after her, but the Leviathan had other plans.
There was no time to think. Jack dodged another pounce and sprinted away through the single opening available amidst the closing circle. The djinn was somewhere distant, perhaps a couple hundred feet away, and swiftly escaping his capacity to detect her. She was relatively safer from the Leviathan horde, but he had a feeling they weren't after her. The protracted pursuit was starting to wear on him in every non-physical way, especially considering his target was soon going to be out of reach. It seemed like the perfect time to take a calculated risk.
Some lofty rocks appeared in view. Jack hopped on one after the other and used this momentum to kick off onto the bark of a tree and rapidly scaled upwards. It was only when he hopped through the branches of a good number of trees that he heard the Leviathans attempting the same route. Their undefeated pride in getting what they wanted without having to climb came as an unexpected advantage. By the time they had even reached their first branch, he was up above in higher layers, swimming through the canopy with ease. It was time for the next step.
The mob chased the sounds of rustling and swishing amidst the branches. While they did so, the archangel had already settled atop the canopy, taking a deep breath of air. As he exhaled, a controlled ball of wind swept through the branches, leading the beasts on an empty trail by sound alone. This would work for now, but it couldn't be long before they realised that the ball of air lacked his scent. Standing up on the branch, he had a wide panoramic view of the forest and briefly oriented himself to find the cave. There really was no sun visible, just a vague cloudy tundra of a sky. It was in moments like these that this place felt like an enclosure, an exhibit of desperation kept on display only for God's view.
All that was left to do was grind his teeth and get through it, he thought. The djinn was no longer detectable through any of his senses. Still, a little bit of careful scouring led him to a wandering Kitsune. This time, he wasted less time on talking and got straight to business. Hefting the body over his left shoulder, Jack trotted back to the cave as discreetly as possible.
"There you go," he dropped the body in front of the cave dwellers. They pushed and shoved past him to feast on the corpse. Once Maya had had her fill, she slowly rose from the scavenging creatures and neared him with blood still streaming down her chin.
"Where's Taka?" she asked, heaving deep breaths from the rush of satisfaction.
"Your boy didn't make it. We split up to capture a meal, and next thing you know, I heard Leviathan approaching. I had to lose them and get back here. Haven't seen him since," Jack reported. "He may as well be dead."
"Then he is dead," Maya proclaimed. "Did they follow you?"
"Not a chance," Jack confirmed. "Sorry for your loss."
"It's one less mouth to feed," she shrugged. When the mass of werewolves finally separated from the Kitsune's corpse, all that was left was bones and mushy chunks of flesh. A few of them had claimed the intestines and other central organs and retreated to a corner. With what was left, Jack smeared the gunk all over himself, going over his cheeks, his neck, his wrists and chest. Once he was sure that the scent would stick, he went back to the cliffside opening of the cave and sat with his back against the wall. He remained like this until darkness had arrived and another day greeted them with its filtered remains of light.
He shut his eyes briefly, wondering what was left on earth. The last he'd remembered, Zara was seconds away from getting her arm chopped off. Sam was on the edge of life and death. The Brahmastra was in Kali's hands. What did you do, Dad? Why did you let it come to this? It was increasingly difficult to avoid feeling like this would have been averted by his presence. If only he had been more proactive, more conspicuous, he thought. Yet it was this very line of action that had led him to Purgatory. Why am I like this? A wave of nausea washed over him. He couldn't bear to be in his own skin. So instead, he got up to distract himself.
Another day, another hunt. "Where's Maya?" he inquired his cave-mates on his way to the shaft. Blank stares were all he got in response.
"Out," was as much as anyone bothered to say. Jack thought he felt a tingle at the back of his neck, but quelled it to prepare himself for the day ahead. Hopefully, it wouldn't involve being chased again. Taka was not an option, so he'd have to go alone. After the fracas of yesterday, he decided it would be best to hunt from above. After all, it was a lot easier to navigate the trees quietly without narrowly escaping misfortune. Little did he know, it'd be the opposite.
The forest floor was empty, uninhabited. Not a single twisted soul in sight. Despite hours of camping in the branches, not so much as the crackling of dry leaves under footsteps could be heard. Against his better judgment, he lowered himself to the ground. It was beginning to get dark. Most people would be wary of the dark, how shadows could hide many secrets. The archangel was one of those secrets, yet his own gloomy companion was mysterious to him. Something about the very ground didn't seem right to him. The hairs on the back of his neck were stood to attention, but the vacant surroundings made them seem like false alarms. The silence was deafening. After a little bit of venturing, he heard a familiar stride in his vicinity.
"Maya," he recognised, face frozen in an austere glare. "Where were you? Why's no one here?"
"Because they have arrived," she said. With outstretched claws, she made a clean rip down the bark of a tree. The sap leaked out in viscous black rivulets. "When the First Ones near, every beast knows to flee."
"Is that why you left?" Jack asked.
"I don't abandon my pack, angel," her voice was a thin whistle.
"You got over Taka pretty quick," he jibed. "So what are we gonna do about the food situation? Any other hunting grounds near here?"
"I smell one that way," she pointed, contorting and arching her spine in schizoid jerks. "Follow me."
Quite a distance had been covered before Jack sensed any signs of life again. By now it was pitch black. "Maybe we should bag one extra to cover tomorrow," he suggested. She paid no heed to him. Okay, rude.
Maya stopped abruptly, turning around to face him.
"What is it?" he queried. She simply stared at him. From her deflected gaze, he guessed something was up. The crack of stones against each other sprung up behind him. He spun around just as the torch was lit. In its halo stood a Leviathan. Jack shot Maya an accusatory glare. "What. The hell. Is this."
"You did good, Maya," the Leviathan said. Unlike the others Jack had seen, this one was more upright and had a sharpness behind his eyes, like the lights were definitely on in there. From behind him, a circle of feral Leviathan approached, making the circumstances painfully clear. From among them, a hairier, less menacing beast stepped forward.
"Taka," Jack spat out the name. "So you're not dead."
"No, I was captured," the werewolf admitted. Taka made his way over to the other side, reuniting with Maya. "But I had something of value to trade."
"And you knew about this?" Jack yelled at Maya, brows frantically raising.
"Not until he returned last night," she explained. "Like I said, I don't abandon my pack."
"What about our deal?" he demanded to know, every word shooting out like bullets.
This time, the smarter Leviathan spoke. "We offered something better," he smugly announced.
Eyeing Taka with an acrid taste in his mouth, Jack wondered, "Seriously? For him?" His ire was all aimed at Maya. "I could have fed your kind for days. It's like trading gold for- for dirt!"
"The price wasn't just Taka's life," Maya answered, skin pulling taut at every bitter inflection. "The King himself has offered to leave our lands alone, so we may live in peace."
"The King?" Jack frowned.
"You'll meet him," the Leviathan calmly said. The surety in his demeanour was like an impenetrable wall. "He wants to see you."
"Tell him to make an appointment," Jack snapped at him.
"You can come peacefully," the Leviathan stated, while another stepped forward with heavy chains that had inscriptions beyond Jack's understanding. The cherry on top really was the spikes on the inside of the cuffs. "Or you can make this uncomfortable."
Jack took in shallow breaths. There were at least a dozen of them and one of him. A grim calculation of the odds weighed on him like collapsed rubble, but he never let it show save for the cement clench of his fists and searing glower. He turned to Maya one last time. "No one gets away with selling me out, bitch," he uttered with a measured tone. And back to the Leviathan, "Take me to your leader."
Some Universe
Crossing that highway was… an experience. Michael held my hand. It seemed to be normal here and it was probably best to let him lead me anyway. We flew with an assembled entourage of angels. Faces which I'd once known to deride me now stood at my side with the aim to protect and serve. They were all dressed in formal white angelic robes with gold cuffs around their wrists, arms and neck. I had to say, the royal treatment was refreshing. When we reached the Veil, the neon rainbow road grew from dispersed rays into a solid footpath which penetrated the border between the universes. The energetic stability of such a connection surprised me—such an intermingling between the matter and anti-matter universes was always known to be explosive and volatile. Whatever Khaos had set up here was eons beyond my expertise.
A flittering electrical arch opened up before us, folding away the pleats of the Veil. This formed a large circle around the highway amounting to the size of a small sun. From this window alone, I could see how dark everything was on the other side. No stars to light up the cosmic vacuum, just masses which sucked any energy from their surroundings. The lone visible source of light seemed like a fierce beast chained by the gravitational pull of its neighbours, lashing out in flaming tendrils and spurts of lightning anger. As we neared the precipice, a sudden coldness washed over me. I squeezed Michael's hand without meaning to.
He glanced at my hand and then at me. "Is everything okay?" he asked.
"Yes… it's just been a while," I truthfully said. It dawned on me how little I had actually thought about setting foot in a universe not different from the one I was created in. The place I had escaped at the beginning of time. Something about it sent an aggressive shiver through me but strangely, I couldn't recall much. It was all so long ago. I wasn't even quite sure what had scared me back then. I knew that Amara had tried to enslave me and I desperately tried to escape her, but these felt like mere facts, rather than memories.
"It's your home," Michael reminded, running his thumb in circles on the back of my hand. "The moment you see it, it'll all come back to you."
That's what I fear.
The desert on the other end of the Highway was a wasteland of black gravel and uncaring obsidian mountains. The angry 'white hole' shot spears of lightning everywhere. It was the only source of light and its tantrum appeared to stir up a wind over the land. The breeze invited our wings to glide. A route was demarcated by torches bearing sapphire flames. Soon, the land broke off into a path of floating rocky plains, each with its own waterfall, like these non-spherical planets were crying about not conforming to a physically efficient shape. I knew we reached our destination when the sparkling black sun came into view. So, this has to be the centre of it all.
Upon our arrival, these dark winged beings akin to angels shifted to welcome us by holding up torches of light. These, as I learnt, were the cruarchs, the soldiers of the anti-Archs. Once they spotted me, they knelt in greeting. Michael ordered them to rise. They obliged but their humble bows were dedicated to me.
Rigalia was no mere imitation of Heaven. It was vastly different. The palace was atop a mountain and seemed boundless. It was a metallic monolith which spared no expense when it came to opulence and splendour. Crystals and metals were woven into every inch of the building and footpaths. Lush gardens and ponds decorated the exterior in a maze-like fashion. I hadn't remembered my Mother to be such a craftswoman. Odd how such things had slipped my memory. Despite everything here being the inverse of the universe I'd known, it was blindingly exquisite. The palace grounds first introduced quarters designed for the cruarchs – their smiths, fighters, tailors and alchemists. This little town was populated with ornate black marble and gold-like embellishments. The cruarchs themselves wore scaly armours with regal scimitars on their belts.
The main palace building was at the centre of the capital, extending far above the ground. A series of incrementally larger edifices led up to the tallest one in the middle, which contained a large circular opening just below its roof. This opening had a golden rim and within it, a glowing onyx orb that radiated darkness. This is the House of Amara, it seemed to say. A crystal staircase led us up into the main palace, where enormous double doors opened to invite us in. Inside, the angels and cruarchs disbanded to assume positions guarding the area. Now it was just Michael and me.
An opening at the centre of the building allowed us to fly up to a high floor. Directly above this opening, the black orb was far more imposing. The closer we got to it, the more I felt energy returning to myself. Perhaps coming here wasn't such a bad idea.
"Take some time to get reacquainted with your chambers," Michael suggested, gesturing behind me. We were under a large arch leading into an impressive abode. He leaned against the arch as we spoke. "Your sisters are away on business. I'll have to get them here for the meeting. It may take a while. Will you be alright?"
"Yes," I answered.
Then, taking both my hands, he looked deeply in my eyes and said, "Wisdom be your shield and love be your guardian."
Such softness on him was so foreign to me. And these gentle affirmations… I wished they were truly meant for me. Before dampness dared trespass my eyes, I replied, "And you."
He brought my hands to his lips and kissed my knuckles. "I will return shortly."
When he left, a soft breeze swept through some wooden chimes, singing me a bleak melody. The first room was a living room, furnished with a grand teak table for having visitors. Flora and fauna had invited themselves in. Strange insects and birds fed on stranger flowers and idled about amidst the foliage. Heavy armour tailored to my figure and an impressive array of weapons were mounted upon the walls. Semi-circular arches along the far wall revealed an open balcony. From there, I could see the whole palace and even beyond. This mountain was atop a dense cloud, beneath which more settlements could be seen. Perhaps a town of some sort.
"M'lady," a voice appeared behind me. It was one of those cruarchs. This one had a more docile demeanour. She had her hands clasped respectfully and her garment was a simple, flowing robe without any armour. She stared at me and I stared at her.
"Yes?"
She seemed a little taken aback but didn't make much of it. "May I take your armour?" she offered.
"It's quite alright," I politely refused. I thought that would make her go away but she and her doe eyes seemed rooted to the spot. As I moved to seat myself at the table, she followed pliantly at my heel though keeping a distance. I hoped to wait it out to no avail. She poured me a drink from a side table and stood quietly at my periphery as I drank. Never had I seen anyone be so attentive to me consuming something. I had barely set the glass down when she cleared it from my sight.
"May I bring you your gown, madam?" she suggested.
"What for?" I curtly asked.
"S-so you could get settled, Your Highness?" she stuttered, suddenly growing unsure of herself.
"What would help me 'get settled' is some alone time. Think you can manage that?" I responded. With a sheepish nod, she left me to my thoughts. Finally. Now I could look around without people knowing that I was lost.
An inner stairway led me to a more private room. Of course. This was Forty-Two's home—it was where she'd keep her most personal items, including the more important journals. The private room had a library far bigger than the one she'd had in Heaven. Perhaps this would be of more use to me.
After a few intelligent guesses and tedious searching, I'd finally found what I was looking for. The page read:
The Halon Highway was frizzling again. Azurite Dust seemed to inflame the cosmic waves further, though not fully, but it did strengthen Aphelia's Arch. Every attempt at stabilising the Highway appears to be countered by a weakening of the Arch, and the inverse relation was also seen to hold. The anti-Reaper's husk was a definite no-go—it channelled energy to the Arch far beyond necessity. Strangest of all, Mermaid's Bittercress provided much ignition but its energy prodded open another gate to the Void and caused a violent flaring of the Highway. Such cross-reactivities must be considered before experimenting with Halon's stability. Needless to say, avoid calling forth the Void's energy with the spell listed in a chapter prior while Halon has yet to be in place.
This was it. I had the spell and the ingredients – Mermaid's Bittercress, Azurite Dust and an anti-Reaper's husk. Now, where would I find such things? It wouldn't be long before Michael returned and that too with… 'my sisters'. If they knew me as well as this implied, it would not be fun having to keep up the image of someone else.
"Mermaid's Bittercress…" I mumbled under my breath as I searched for any relevant resources. It was a plant, that was clear, but I had no idea how to conjure it. It was written that the plant flowered in a place of immense passion, where it enhanced the senses akin to an explosion. Paradoxically, the examples stated were shrines and whorehouses. In a stack of papers, I found a map of the nearby town below the clouds – Novis. It turned out to be a city of lower immortals who served the Queendom and provided services prohibited in the Capital, like… whorehouses. Great, I thought sardonically. They would rather have brothels than shrines under their Archon's nose. It was probably best to be discreet, so I needed a cloak. A map of the palace itself revealed some secret underground tunnels that would ensure an impeded path.
Problem was, Forty-Two's other personal room was on the other side of this level. I took the books and maps that I needed and made it just past the main arch. The servant from earlier snapped to attention and followed at my heel. As I found, more were strewn along the walkway and greeted me as I passed them. I sensed some a drop in morale as I refused to task them. They kept asking me if I wanted herbs, a massage, company or a bath drawn for me. Such great offers but I couldn't think about that now. It just made me wonder why my doppelganger would leave such hospitality behind for the Void. A day in my shoes would have set her attitude right. Granted, I did get demons for such work but it wasn't quite the same.
When I reached the bedroom, I had to insist that my helpers remain outside. I even told the two guards standing by not to let anyone in and shut the doors.
No time to waste, I got moving. Luckily, a black cloak was available in the closet. There was even a private stairway that allowed direct access to the basement levels. From there, it was an undisturbed, but lengthy, path to where I had needed to go. The town was far more inhabited than the palace capital. Narrow, cobblestone streets and modestly tall buildings were around every corner. It was lively, with people bustling about. There was always a cacophony of noises. I would have not expected such a normal atmosphere from this place, but here I was. I kept to the corners as much as possible. Thankfully, it was always dark, despite the blue torches here and there, so wearing a heavy black cloak was not so absurd.
The whorehouse had a back entrance. Now… how am I to find one plant? From the outside, I had spotted a window that radiated floral energies. It would be a good place to start. 'Good' being a relative term. I was still inside a whorehouse. Sounds of degeneracy were barely muffled by the walls, even as I stuck to empty hallways. For such a place, it sure was well-endowed with fine carvings along the walls and quality bedding. The higher up I went, the more elegant the place became and fewer rooms were present. This had to be some kind of premium service. And then I heard a sound that made my heart stop.
There was a downside to going through the narrow back hallways which were obscured from the main corridors. Every sound was clear, even whispers. This floor had just one room but the noises fizzling through the walls belonged to several women, who all moaned and howled with unbridled pleasure. But amidst them was a deep, husky masculine voice panting and sighing heavily. A voice only I had the privilege of hearing for billions of years. Hearing it like this, right now, was like being speared through my chest. I felt myself trembling and my limbs desiring a total collapse. As if to make matters worse, I found a peephole in the wall, allowing a single ray of light through it. Where was the light from? Well, my suspicions were confirmed.
His sculpted body and short scarlet curls moved exactly how I'd remembered them. "Lucifer! Oh, Lucifer!" I heard one of the women scream. A vice tightened in my chest. I knew it wasn't my Lucifer, but that didn't make it easier to see him so impassioned in making love to four women at once. When I had managed to soothe my flaring temper, the next oddity hit me. That's where the Mermaid's Bittercress was. Right by the bed, creeping along the wall with roots anchored firmly in the carvings. It blossomed so vigorously and pulsated in the aura of Lucifer's vice. In between climaxes, they coaxed droplets out of the cerulean flower into their beverages and ingested it to keep going. I wondered if Michael knew about this. Did he even care? I knew what I would do—slit their precious throats.
I moved to the end of the secret hallway where a discreet door would lead to the main corridor. I waited for them to leave the room before exiting, which admittedly took longer than I would have minded. I hoped Lucifer wouldn't feel my murderous glares on his back. When I got to the room, the sheets were a crumpled mess and articles of clothing lay about. From the sounds of trickling water nearby, I imagined a nice bath was being drawn. Don't even think about it, I told myself. At least the flower was intact and succulent. This was probably the best time to collect it. I pruned it at the stem and safely stowed it into my cloak. I turned to leave. That's when I felt the cold sting of a sharp blade resting against my throat.
Lucifer's stunning crimson irises widened. "Sophia," he muttered, dazed, and lowered his blade. His expression recast itself in a hurry to decide on an emotion. "What the hell are you doing here?"
I pursed my lips. "You didn't see me here," I blatantly stated as I shifted to leave.
"Wait," he swerved to block me. I released a deep sigh. "How long have you been here?"
My chin tightened as I tried to choose my words carefully. Despite the better options, I went with, "'You'll feel this pounding long after I'm gone, baby'."
I thought I did a pretty good impression of him. He did not seem to think so. Lucifer rolled his eyes into the back of his skull. "I know that you're aware of my… vices, but I would never mean for you to witness them," he said. What a strange thing to see, Lucifer being apologetic. Forty-Two sure had her men sorted out. "In an ideal world…" he ran a hand through his hair. "…it would just be you and me. No one else."
I know. I crossed my arms and averted my gaze. "Forget about it. I don't want to discuss this any further," I curtly ended and got my legs moving.
"But what are you doing in a place like this?" he asked behind my back. "Don't think you could somehow blame this on me for leverage. Michael would definitely see something suspect about this."
I paused. I shut my eyes tightly for a brief second, releasing the tension in my shoulders. When I turned back to him, there it was again, that same malicious glint in his eye and a crooked smile. How could I be so vicious to the same charm that had won my heart over before? I had to be faithful, no matter how much this separation and loneliness hurt. But that didn't mean I couldn't use this to my advantage. "I needed the Mermaid's Bittercress," I confessed remorselessly.
"For what?"
"None of your business," I promptly responded. "Are we done here?"
"No," he denied. I maintained my glower, not straying from eye contact. "The way I see it, you have a secret. I'll keep it, for a small price."
"What do you want, you snake?" I impatiently asked.
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and widened the grin. "Just a couple hours of your time. Tonight. Come with me to the Sacred Forest. There's a nice lake there," he stated.
"A night-time tryst?" I named it. I suppressed the urge to gag. "There's a literal war going on."
"It's not important," he dismissed. At least I agreed with that. "Michael may be all uptight about it but that's only because it's his responsibility. I don't care."
"I can tell," I huffed.
"Is it a deal?"
"Some nerve you have, asking me something like this." I really couldn't afford to waste time like this. It was only a matter of moments before people here realised I wasn't who they thought I was. But maybe, this didn't have to be a waste. "I'll do it," I agreed. "But… since you've already caught me red-handed, what about another favour?"
"That's gonna cost extra," he raised an eyebrow playfully. I stepped closer to him. I sensed apprehension from him, even more so when I placed a hand on his bare chest.
With a solemn look on my face, I told him, "I'll… be grateful."
I felt his torso rise and fall as he considered what I'd said. "Whatever happened to you in the Void, it must've been big," he speculated sombrely.
"Or maybe… you've stopped being the most repulsive thing I've known," I jibed. It was always important to remind myself what Forty-Two must have thought of him. It seemed to work too, considering it elicited a defeated huff from him. "And like you said, this war that Michael is involving me in is not a priority. Not for me, at least. Things I've seen in the Void are way more dire," I divulged rather earnestly. "You may as well know, since we're sharing a secret now."
Opening up to him seemed to work. He softened up. "What do you need?"
"Azurite dust and an anti-Reaper's husk."
"Wait… you're trying to open a portal to the Void," he figured. Damn, he's fast. "But… why? Isn't the Aphelia's Arch your usual route?"
"There have been some complications. I can't get into all that now. I have to get back before Michael returns. Can you help me or not?"
"Since you've been so nice," he assured me, raising an eyebrow playfully. "I'd like to know this new you. Maybe find out what's taken my place as 'most repulsive'."
"Don't misconceive what's going on here," I warned with an enigmatic one-sided grin of my own. "I am still wedded to your brother. But this would mean a lot to me."
He studied my expression pensively. "I'm not surprised. It's a deal," he confirmed, somewhat dejected. Perfect.
